


Too Far Away

by HixyStix (GaiaMyles)



Category: Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, F/M, Temporary Amnesia, cheesy tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 20:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16333166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaiaMyles/pseuds/HixyStix
Summary: Bill's wife wakes up with no memory of their relationship.  Can he help her get her memories back?Cheesy, tropey AU of All The Difference.  No need to have seen the show, though reading the fic would help!





	Too Far Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarlockWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockWriter/gifts).



> Apologies for spamming the Jericho tag with my own little version of the show, but I've been encouraged to post anyway.
> 
> Thanks to WarlockWriter for beta-ing and cheerleading!

The first few months were a whirlwind of bliss.

The wedding went off without a hitch, the honeymoon short but worth it.  Granted, there were arguments and adjustments to be made, but apologies and make up sex were both frequent and exuberant.

Five months in, Sarah started having headaches.  At first, they were mild, but insidious.  She wrote them off as stress from work and tried to lessen her workload.  Unfortunately, the headaches slowly and steadily grew so intense she could no longer do her job.

Sarah took a few days of carefully hoarded vacation days to rest.  Surely that would help.  Bill kissed her every morning before he left and gently chided her, “Get some sleep, babe.  Feel better.”

Instead of getting better, she got aphasia.  She stumbled over simple words and forgot how to say “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”  Bill was obviously concerned.  Without waiting for her to ask for help, he took over her chores and the cooking.

Sarah felt useless, even more so a few days later when she realized she couldn’t remember what she’d done the last hour.  She lost more time over the rest of the week.  She tried hiding it from Bill, who would make her go to a doctor – but copays cost money that wasn’t in the budget and she didn’t want to cause problems.  They’d had that argument.

“I’m so sorry,” she told Bill.  “You shouldn’t have to put up with this.  You shouldn’t take care of me.”

Bill shook his head.  “Babe, I meant our vows.  Don’t you ever think I want to walk away because of this.  Or because of the depression it sounds like is creeping in.”

He hugged her and Sarah believed him.

 

Bill knew about the memory lapses: Sarah wasn’t hiding them as well as she thought.  He was determined to take her to the doctor in a couple of days – Monday, when he was off work and could go with her.  She wouldn’t argue with him then.

He was holding her in bed Sunday night, trying to figure out how to comfort her, when she had a seizure.  It was horrifying.  One minute, she was limp and comfortable in his arms, the next she was stiff and shaking, eyes blank.

As soon as Sarah came back to herself, Bill made her dress and drove her to the hospital in Rogue River.  “This is too much,” he’d said as he pulled on clothes.  “We need answers and you need to feel better.”

They were in the ER through the night and into the morning, waiting for MRI and PET scan result.

“Meningioma,” the ER doctor said.  “It’s in a tricky location and from what you described, it’s very aggressive.  You need a specialist.”  The hospital set them up with an appointment at KU Hospital in Kansas City Tuesday morning and gave Sarah some anti-seizure medication that might help - but it also might not.

Exhausted, Bill drove Sarah home and put her back in bed.  He went to see the Sheriff, looking ragged and worn, and filled out an FMLA application.  “Sarah’s got cancer,” he explained.  “Gonna need surgery fast.  We’re going to KU tomorrow.”

The Sheriff took his application.  “I’m sorry, son.  So soon after your wedding, too.”

Bill nodded, trying not to think about the possibility of losing Sarah this quickly.  He drove to the library and repeated the routine, bringing the forms home for Sarah to sign and mail in.

The next – and hardest – step was telling Sarah’s parents and their friends.  Just their closest family and friends: his parents, the Taylors, the Richmonds.  Sarah’s parents made immediate plans to fly out to Kansas City that afternoon and offered to pay for hotel costs.  Bill thanked them profusely.

Sarah slept through the phone calls and Bill was glad.  He knew she wouldn’t want to hear the sympathies right now.  _He_ could barely stomach them and he wasn’t the sick one.  One last phone call to get hotel information from Nancy, and Bill was through.

He allowed himself an hour and a half of a nap, then woke Sarah, too.  “Time to pack, babe.  We need to get to KC tonight.”

She had another seizure in the car, but there wasn’t anything he could do for her.  Bill just pressed the gas pedal a little harder and sped, trying to get to Kansas City quicker.

They met her parents at the airport with hugs and went out for dinner after dropping their things off at the hotel.  Dinner was less than reassuring as Nancy – who had done some quick research – told them meningioma surgeries were usually successful, but that if Sarah ever got pregnant, it could come back.

Bill and Sarah looked at each other and entwined their fingers.  Kids had been in the plan for the future.  Did they have to give up that dream?

 

Dr. Peters was a top oncologist, they were told as they waited to meet him.

Bill didn’t know about his surgical skills, but he was very brusque and forthright with them.  He looked at Sarah’s scans, heard about her symptoms, and scheduled them for surgery the next morning.  Bill didn’t know whether to be thankful or terrified the doctor wanted to move so quickly.  She’d had a third seizure that morning in the hotel and each one scared Bill to the core.

He held her hand tightly as they left the doctors’ offices.  Sarah was only twenty-seven.  They’d been married just six months.  They weren’t supposed to test the ‘in sickness’ portion of their vows until years from now.

And yet here they were, planning a major surgery for the next morning.

Sarah held her composure the whole day, through follow-up visits for surgery prep, through meals and making out a living will, all the way up until it was time to sleep.  Bill was impressed with how strong she was.

It was in bed, when Bill held her close and stroked her hair, that she finally let go and cried.

“Shh,” he whispered, holding her tight against his chest.  “It’s going to be okay.  We got here quickly.  You’re going to be okay.”

She clutched at his arms, sobbing.  “But what if I’m not?  What if–?”

Bill cut her off with a kiss.  “You will be.”

Sarah cried herself to sleep, clinging to Bill.

 

Sarah woke first, entangled in Bill’s arms.  She looked at him, still asleep, with trails of dried tears running across his face to the pillow.

Bless him, he’d tried to hide it from her.  Tried to be strong for her.

Stroking his cheek, she whispered, “Babe.  Bill, it’s time to wake up.”

His eyelids fluttered for a moment, then he opened his eyes.  They were red and puffy-looking and Sarah knew he hadn’t gotten much sleep – last night or the two nights before.  That didn’t stop him from caring for her first.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said.  “Are you ready for today?”

Sarah nodded, but curled herself against his chest.  “Love me before we have to go,” she begged.  “Please?”  Was that something he could – or would – do?

Bill pulled her up, face-to-face, and kissed her.  She worked his boxers down, he pulled her nightgown up and kicked the boxers off his legs.  He made love to her slowly, thoroughly, as if it were their first time.

Or their last time.

 

By the time they made it to the hotel lobby to meet Sarah’s parents, there wasn’t any time left for Bill to grab breakfast.  Sarah got a look from her mother and felt a pang of guilt she’d spent their time in bed instead of taking care of her husband.

The intake process at the hospital was slow, giving them all plenty of time to dwell, though Sarah tried to make some jokes to lighten the mood.  They all fell flat.

IVs were started after they’d been there an hour.  In another hour, someone came and shaved a section of her hair and Dr. Peters stopped in to draw on her head.  Sarah took off her wedding rings - the only jewelry she’d brought with her - and gave them to Bill for safe keeping.

Sarah asked to go to the bathroom, pulling her IVs along with her.  She stopped to look in the mirror.  They’d shaved a long, curved gash that reached almost from the top of her head to her neck, with purple marker lines designating where the cuts would be.  She wondered if it would have been easier to look at if they’d shaved her whole head.

Of course, that might still happen.  She might need chemo or radiation – they wouldn’t know until after the surgery.

Crawling back into her hospital bed, Sarah reached out to Bill.  He held her hand until they came to take her to the surgical suite.  As they rolled her away, she turned to watch him until the doors closed behind her.

“Okay, Sarah, I need you to count backwards from ten,” the anesthesiologist said.

“Ten, nine…”

 

 

Her head hurt.

Wait, no.  For some reason, it seemed her head _should_ be hurting, but… it wasn’t.  A throbbing, yes, but no actual pain.

Huh.

Sarah’s eyes fluttered open.

Uh.  This wasn’t her bedroom.  This was… a hospital room.

The hell?

“You’re awake!” came a relieved voice from the bedside.

Sarah didn’t know that voice.  She turned her head just a bit – all she could manage, for some reason – and saw a man sitting in a chair at her side.

He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place him.  Dark blonde hair, brownish eyes, dimples, and a smile.  He leaned forward, sunlight from the window hitting him, and Sarah had to revise her observation: gold.  Golden hair, golden eyes, golden smile.

Wow, he was pretty.  Who was he?

He got up from his chair and sat on the bed, grabbing her hand.  Sarah hoped she didn’t look terrified.  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Uh…,” Sarah croaked and _man_ her mouth was dry.  “Confused.”

He smiled softly, eyes crinkling.  “Yeah, Dr. Peters said that you’d be disoriented for a bit and you were out of it in the recovery room.  It’s okay, though.  He said everything went well; they got the whole thing out, so no radiation or chemo, at least to start with.  So it’s just a matter of watching the swelling while you heal and then long term monitoring.”

What?  “I don’t…  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  What went well?  Where’m I?”

The smile faltered.  “Okay, you’re really disoriented.  We’re in Kansas City, at the KU cancer center.  You had your surgery this morning and they removed the tumor.”

Tumor?  She didn’t have…  Wait, Kansas City?  Why would she be in Kansas City?  Sarah frowned, feeling the motion tug at the side of her head.  “I still don’t…  I should be at home.  I was at home.  I should go–”

He stopped her from getting up, lightly pushing her back into the bed.  “It’s okay, Sarah.  You’re where you’re supposed to be.  Don’t worry.  Here, let me get a nurse,” he said, looking on the side of the bed for a call button.

“You know my name?”

He glanced back up, eyebrows quirked.  “Of course I do.  Why wouldn’t I?”  His eyes grew wide and he stood, backing up slowly.  “Wait.  How much do you not remember?  Sarah, do you know who _I_ am?”

She stared, trying to think of something to say.  She knew, deep down, that saying no would hurt him and she didn’t want to do that.  She couldn’t say yes.  Silence wasn’t the right thing either; a profoundly disturbed look crossed his face.

They didn’t have a chance to say anything else to each other.  A nurse bustled into the room.  “Oh, good, you’re awake again!  How’re you feeling?”

“Uh.  Confused,” Sarah repeated, still gaping at the man, trying to figure things out.

“Understandably.  They _did_ root around in your brain this morning.  How bad is the disorientation?  Mr. Koehler?” the nurse asked lightly, glancing over at the man while she checked Sarah’s vitals.

“She…she seems t…to have some memory issues,” he stammered.

Koehler?  She had a last name at least.  Unfortunately, it didn’t provide her with any clues.

“Yeah, that sometimes happens.”  The nurse sounded sympathetic, but not bothered.  “It might clear up with some actual sleep – not the medically-induced kind.  Dr. Peters should be by here in a couple hours; why don’t you try to get some rest before then?  Drink some water, too – that’ll help you get more comfortable.  I’ll be back in a few minutes to run a couple quick checks, though, so don’t fall asleep just yet.”

“Yeah…,” Sarah mumbled.  Maybe that would help.

“And you,” the nurse said, looking at… at Koehler.  “You’ve been here all morning.  She’s awake and you’ve talked to her.  Take a walk.  Get something to eat.  Go back to the hotel and grab a nap.  You probably could use the rest, too.”

He nodded jerkily, falling back into his chair.

After the nurse left, Sarah whispered, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He buried his face in his hands and Sarah saw a wedding band.  Oh God, what did that mean?  Who was this Mr. Koehler to her?  “No, it’s okay.  Dr. Peters said you’d be fuzzy on things when you woke up.  I just wasn’t expecting you to be _this_ fuzzy.”

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, feeling like she wanted to cry.  She didn’t know where she was or what was going on and she’d _still_ managed to disappoint someone.  Someone who cared enough to sit in a hospital room with her.  “I don’t…,” she started, pausing to take a deep breath.  “Maybe the nurse is right.  Maybe I just need to get some sleep.  Right now, the last thing I remember is being at my parent’s house.  In Chattanooga.  I don’t know why I’m out here.  I don’t remember anything about a tumor or about surgery.”

He looked at her over his fingers and then let his hands drop to his lap.  “Sarah, you haven’t lived in Chattanooga for three years.”

Oh God, like that helped orient her.  “Three years?  I…I don’t remember that.  I’m so sorry.”  She hesitated, scared she’d hurt him even more.  “I don’t…  Can you tell me your name?”

His face fell, but he forced a smile.  “Yeah, darlin’.  I’m Bill.  I’m your husband.  We’ve been married a little over half a year.”

Bill Koehler.  That was his name.  The rest of his words hit her suddenly: ‘Darlin’.’  The wedding band on his finger.  ‘Husband.’

What the hell?

“I don’t…  I don’t remember…  Oh God, I don’t remember that,” she stammered, panicking.  “I’m so sorry, I just…  I don’t…”

“Sarah!  It’s okay!”  Bill’s face said it wasn’t okay, but he stood, coming close enough to grab her hand again.  “It’ll come back to you.  I know it will.”

Sarah hoped he was right.

 

The nurse set her clipboard down on the tray table and held her pen at the ready.  “Time for the memory tests,” she announced.

Bill watched Sarah’s eyes widen, almost in fear.  Would she know the answers?

The first one, she got right: “Who is the President of the United States?”

The next ones, she couldn’t answer:  “Name one of Kansas’ senators.  Name the Governor of Kansas.  Name the Mayor of Jericho.”

She shook her head at each question, looking more and more lost.  Bill wanted to interrupt the nurse and hold Sarah until she felt better, but it didn’t seem like that would work right now.

The cognitive tests – repeating numbers and words – came next and thankfully, Sarah aced those.

Her mind was fine, then, Bill noted.  Her memory was shot to hell, though, and he didn’t know how to fix it.  He didn’t know how to fix _any_ of it.  He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

“I’m gonna go,” he told her after the nurse left.  “I’m going to get your parents.  Try to get some sleep, will you?”

She nodded and Bill sidled out of the room, feeling ashamed for leaving her alone, but maybe her parents could help.

Bill found the Morgans down in the cafeteria, where they’d headed just before Sarah woke up.  “She woke up,” he said, sliding into the seat opposite Ken.  “But there’s a problem.  She’s lost her memories of the past three years or so.”

Nancy frowned.  “All of it?”

“It seems to be,” Bill said.  “She had no clue who I was or what was going on.  She’s sleeping right now and hopefully, she’ll have some of her memory back when she wakes up.”

“That’s probably what’ll happen,” Nancy said.  “Go get some food, Bill.  We’ll wait and eat with you while she sleeps.”

 

Sarah tried to sleep, she really did, but she was hooked up to too many monitors.  The tubes and humming and pinches on her skin kept her from relaxing.  Instead, she lay there, trying her hardest to bring up memories of Bill, of this Jericho place she apparently lived – of _anything_ that had happened to her recently.

No luck.

An hour later, her parents showed up, looking a little older than she remembered.  Bill slunk into the room after them, as if he wasn’t sure he should be there.  Sarah said hi halfheartedly, glad to see someone familiar but still feeling guilty about Bill.

Nancy sat at the end of the bed while the men hung back.  “Sweetheart, Bill told us you were having trouble remembering the past few years.  Has any of that come back?”

Sarah wished she could say yes.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Sarah thought for a moment.  “Going to bed in my room.  It’s…  It _was_ 2009.  I worked camp over the summer.  I broke up with Aaron.  I was working at Rock/Creek.  I can’t…  I can’t remember the actual date.  That’s fuzzy.  September?  Maybe August?”

“You got fired from Rock/Creek,” Karen explained patiently.  “You decided to move away for a while and got hired at the library in Jericho, Kansas.”

“I don’t…  Where’s Jericho?  I don’t know it.”  Sarah saw Bill wince at her words and she immediately regretted them.

“You remember our road trip?  We stopped for lunch in a little town in Kansas the day we left Colorado Springs.”

“Oh yeah.”  Sarah _did_ remember that.  “That’s Jericho?”

“It is.  You met Bill there.  You two got married October of last year.  It’s April now.”

“He mentioned that.”  Sarah tried to process everything she’d been told, but it was hard to swallow.  A whole three years she couldn’t remember?  A drastic move, an engagement, and a marriage?  That was a lot.

“Did you sleep?” Ken asked, leaning against the far wall by the dry erase board.

Sarah tried to shake her head but couldn’t move it much.  “Why am I in the hospital?”

Bill stepped forward again, hand on the foot of the bed.  “You got diagnosed with cancer earlier this week.  We came to the University of Kansas Hospital to find a specialist.  It all happened so quickly – it started with headaches and then memory lapses and seizures.”  He grinned sadly.  “Maybe we should have seen more memory problems coming.”

Sarah wanted to return his smile, but hearing she had – or used to have – a brain tumor was disturbing.  “And you said they got it all?  This morning?”

“Yeah, hon.  They did.”

Sarah leaned back into her pillow.  “That’s good.”

 

Sarah’s parents were still in the room when Dr. Peters came by to check on Sarah.  Bill knew he’d met them briefly after the surgery, but he shook their hands and introduced himself properly this time.

When he turned his attention to Sarah, it was like no one else was in the room.  “I understand you’re having some major memory loss – and we’ll address that – but first I want to tell you what happened to you today.”  He explained about the meningioma, the symptoms it caused, and why it was so vital to remove quickly.  “It was in a delicate spot, but we got the visible tumor out completely.  There might be some cells still in there, so we’ll monitor you long-term for recurrence, but right now things look good.”

There was a collective sigh of relief around the room.  Bill didn’t like the sound of ‘recurrence,’ but he would definitely take the good report right now.  He looked down from his spot by Sarah’s head and smiled.

Dr. Peters tapped his pen on his clipboard.  “Retrograde amnesia is quite rare – unlike what the movies tell you – and is usually the result of some trauma.  Granted, cutting into your brain is a form of trauma, but what most likely happened is that we cut some of the neuron pathways to those memories.  They should grow back in time.”

“How long?” Sarah asked.  Bill wondered the same thing.  How long until he got his wife back?

“Could be days, months, years.  The best thing you can do is try to re-learn what happened and maybe that will spark some growth along the pathways.  Talk to your husband tonight while you’re here and maybe things will have improved some in the morning.”

Bill squeezed her shoulder, feeling hopeful.  Sarah looked up at him, but her expression was fearful.

Dr. Peters left and Sarah finally succumbed to sleep.  Bill had noticed her eyelids drooping earlier.  Maybe she’d feel better after a nap.

 

The nap didn’t bring back any memories.  Sarah woke to a dark room and Bill reading by the last vestiges of sunlight.

Sarah reached for the water thermos on the table by the bed and the movement caught Bill’s attention.  He leapt up to grab it for her.

“Sleep well?” he asked.  Do you remember? was the unspoken question.

Sarah shrugged.  “I think so.  Still can’t remember anything, though.”

Bill’s face fell, but he rallied quickly.  “Can I get you anything?  Your parents went to get dinner and go to the hotel.  They’ll be back in the morning.  You’re stuck with me tonight.”

Sarah didn’t know how she felt about it, but her parents obviously trusted Bill.  And he’d made her fall in love with him once.  He had to be a good man.  “You need sleep too,” she said.

He smiled.  “I’ll get sleep, don’t worry.  I haven’t slept much in three days, so I’ll probably conk out now that I know you’re safe.”

“Can… can I go to the bathroom before you do?” Sarah asked.  After tasting water, she realized just how badly she needed to pee.

Bill looked on the side of the bed and paged a nurse, who unhooked Sarah from her monitors and helped her roll the IV stand in the bathroom with her.  Sarah was grateful – she was a little unsteady on her feet.  “Page me when you’re ready to get back in bed,” the nurse instructed.

Sarah made the mistake of looking at herself in the mirror when she washed her hands.  Her head was loosely bandaged, so she pulled off the gauze to see what was underneath.

Her head was partially shaved – about a one inch thick curved line down the right side of her head – and a nasty suture marred the skin.  She’d expected that, though.  Brain surgery.  It could have been worse – this might be hidden by the rest of her hair once the bandages came off.

But the shocking part was how the rest of her looked: bigger than she remembered.  She thought she’d been big to start with.  Built large, with excess fat.  Gross.  Not pretty.

That couldn’t be right.  No one would have asked her out looking like this, much less married her.  Maybe she got fat and ugly after they got married.  Maybe Bill regretted asking her.

She didn’t realize she was crying until Bill opened the bathroom door to check on her.

“You don’t have to be stuck with me,” she sobbed.

“What?” he asked, looking perplexed.  “I’m not ‘stuck with’ you.”

“Yeah, you are.  I was sick, now I can’t even remember things that should be basic.”  Sarah gestured at herself in the mirror.  “I see how I look, too.  Why would you stay with someone who can’t remember you who is also fat and ugly?”

Bill’s face hardened and Sarah was almost scared.  “No.  We are not going through all that again.  You may not remember our wedding vows right now, but I do.  ‘In sickness’ was part of them and I meant it.  We never expected this and it’s not been easy, but I don’t want to walk away because of what’s happened to you.  Or, before you get into it, your mental health issues.  I promised you I’d stay, and I’m staying.”

Sarah leaned against the sink for support.  “But… even without that, I’m not someone who you should _want_ to be with.  It’s not the missing hair, that’ll probably grow back.  But the rest of it… the rest of _me_!  I don’t know how you can see past how I look.”  She pointed at her middle.  “All I saw in the mirror was disgusting–”

“No!” Bill interrupted, stepping in the bathroom and gripping her shoulders.  “Stop it, please.  Stop saying things like that.  I love you, no matter what you look like.  I think you’re attractive just as you are, sutures and all.  I know sometimes your brain tells you lies, but it kills me to hear you say bad things about yourself.  It always has.  One of the things you’ve forgotten is that you’re supposed to listen to me when your brain says those things.  It’ll lie to you; I won’t.”

“Bill–”

He shook her slightly.  “Just listen to me for a moment.  You may not remember our relationship or that we love each other, but trust me, I know what kind of person you are.  And even now, when you don’t remember me, how would you feel if I stood here and told you how horrible I thought my nose was?  Or my eyes?  Or this damn overbite?  Or that I’m embarrassed of these stupid balding spots I’ve had since I was a teenager?  And that because of these things, _you_ shouldn’t look twice at _me_?”

“But… but those aren’t bad things!”  Sarah stared at his face, studying it.  She’d thought he was handsome when she saw him – now she was noticing the things that he pointed out, but they added to his beauty instead of taking away.  They made him unique in a good way.  “You’re… well, when I woke up, one of my first thoughts was that you were pretty.  Your eyes are gorgeous, especially when the light catches them, and your profile…  I mean, jeez.”

Bill glared at her meaningfully.  “And that’s how I feel about you.”

Sarah couldn’t quite believe it, but she already learned enough to know Bill would argue her into the ground about this.  She made her way back to the bed and called for the nurse to re-attach everything.

 

Once they were alone again in the darkened room, Sarah asked Bill to tell her about their history.  “Tell me about us.  Tell me what I don’t remember.”

Bill was happy to try and jog her memory.  “You moved to Jericho in January of 2010 and worked – still work – at the library.  I’m a deputy sheriff and we met when you came into the station asking about pistol permits.  I’m sad to say I didn’t _really_ notice you until you came to the class to get your permit.”

“Did I shoot that well?” Sarah asked.

Bill laughed softly, thinking back to that day.  “You shot well enough.  But you also caught my eye because you knew your stuff.  And, well, you were wearing a corset holster that would have distracted any man.  It took me a couple of weeks to work up the courage to ask you out.”

“And I said yes?”

“Yeah.  But our first date didn’t quite work out.  My friend Stanley crashed it.  Then we tried to go hiking, but you came down with pneumonia that night, so that didn’t work out.  Finally, we got things worked out after I changed your tire when it blew.”

“I didn’t change it myself?”

“You tried,” Bill said.  “But your jack warped, so you called me for help.”  And thank God she had, else they’d have spent the rest of their lives thinking the other wasn’t interested.

“Huh,” Sarah said.  “I’m not remembering this stuff, but I like hearing it.  Keep telling me, please.”

Leaning forward in his chair, Bill told her stories until Sarah drifted off to sleep again.  He sat back and watched her for a bit – she looked so normal when she slept, you’d never know she was having trouble.  He sighed and lay down on the room’s couch, pulling a thin hospital pillow under his head.

 

The next day, Sarah’s memory was still on the fritz, but she was otherwise healthy, so Dr. Peters discharged her.  He made a follow-up appointment in a week to take out her sutures and another in a month to see if any part of the tumor had grown back, to see if she needed chemo or radiation.

They left the hospital late in the morning.  She was rolled out to the garage in a wheelchair, where Bill met her with a familiar car – but it’d been her mom’s.

“This is my car?” she asked, once she was buckled in.

“Yeah, babe.  We drove it instead of mine because it gets better mileage.”  Bill shrugged, glancing in the rearview mirror.  “And it’s more comfortable, but you’ll never hear me say that again.”

Her parents drove up beside them in what must be a rental car.  Ken rolled down the window.  “We’ll lead and you follow?”

Bill nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

“Where are we headed?” Sarah asked as Bill let her parents pull ahead.  Had they planned something while she was asleep or was she forgetting more things?

Bill reached across and patted her leg.  “While you were napping before discharge, we made plans.  Your parents have to get back to Chattanooga because your dad has a big meeting tomorrow,” he explained patiently.

“How did you know I was worried about when you planned this?” Sarah asked.

Bill smiled softly.  “I’ve learned your facial expressions over the last three years.  I knew something was bothering you and that seemed most likely.”

“You were right,” Sarah said, turning to watch out the window.  She took care to keep her bandaged head from touching the headrest – any pressure hurt right now.

She’d driven through Kansas City before, with her mom on that same road trip that took her to Jericho, but the impression it’d left was grungy and unremarkable.  She tried to find more to see this time.

The drive to the airport was silent.  She didn’t want to see her parents leave – they were the only touchstones to her memory – but Bill seemed to be a good person who genuinely cared for her.

Sarah didn’t quite get why.

 

The airport was crowded and noisy and apparently tiring.  Sarah leaned against Bill as her parents rode up the escalator.  Bill didn’t know whether or not to put an arm around her, but decided he could better support her that way.  She didn’t argue or flinch, so he thought it was all right.

They waved good-bye and Bill walked Sarah back out to the car, arm around her waist to keep her from stumbling.

“Are you okay with them gone?” he asked when they were on the road again.  He wasn’t really sure he wanted the answer, but he needed to know.  “Your parents?”

Sarah looked thoughtful.  “I think so.  I mean, they confirmed I’m supposed to be here, with you.  You’ve been so kind.  I think I need to be here trying to figure out what I was doing before the surgery rather than following them home and hiding from it.”

“As long as you’re okay,” Bill said, inwardly sighing in relief.  “We’re headed home now.  Maybe that will help you settle in.”

“Maybe.”  It wasn’t like talking to the old Sarah yet, but Bill imagined her brain was a little overwhelmed between the surgery and the memory loss.

They finally drove out of Topeka and the interstate cut through endless fields of wheat and corn, barns spotting the horizon every now and again.  At some point, a gray line appeared on the horizon and Bill confirmed it was the Rocky Mountains.

“They’re much bigger in Jericho,” he said.  “We’re somewhat close to the Colorado border.”

As they approached Hays, Bill heard Sarah’s stomach growl and he realized he’d never gotten them lunch, too caught up with the idea of getting her home.  “Shit,” he muttered, and pulled off on the main Hays exit.  “We’re getting food.”

Sarah pointed at one of the fast food places.  “That’d work,” she said.

“No,” Bill said.  “You’re healing.  You need something healthier.”  He spotted an Applebee’s and decided that was good enough.

Bill’s phone buzzed while they were eating.  He looked and it was his mom.  “Sorry, gotta get this,” he told Sarah.  The conversation with his mom was short – her question really needed to be answered by Sarah – and he promised to text her back.

Frowning, he snapped his phone shut.  “So it looks like there’s going to be a welcoming committee at the house when we get there.  I can tell them to leave, if you want.”

Sarah munched on her salad – at least her tastes hadn’t changed.  “Who is it?  Do they know about my…?”  She waved her hand around her head, approximating her memory issues.

“My parents, Jimmy and Margaret, and Stanley and Bonnie.  I think I’ve told you about all of them?  They’re our closest friends, so I’ve kept them updated.  Stanley even promised not to make memory jokes just yet.”  Bill grinned, but watched closely for Sarah’s reaction.

She nodded slowly.  “Maybe they stay for a little bit?” she asked tentatively.  “I’d like to see them, see if any memories come back.  I’m kinda tired, though.”

Bill reached over and squeezed her hand.  “You can nap in the car if you want; I won’t be offended.  If you don’t, we can both nap after kicking everyone out.”

He texted his mom back.  _you can be there.  she still doesn’t remember anything or anyone._

Remembering something himself, he set down his fork and dug in his jeans pocket.  “I don’t know if you want these back yet, but they’re here if you want them.”  He pulled out Sarah’s wedding band and engagement ring and handed them to her.  “You had to take them off for the surgery,” he explained.

Sarah held them in her hand, studying them, and Bill could tell she was deciding.

Filling the silence with chatter, he said, “The engagement ring was my grandmother’s, Faye Muck.  We live in her and my Grandpa Skip’s old house.  And yes, my grandparents are the ones from _Band of Brothers_.”

“I haven’t seen that,” she said softly.  “I’m sorry I don’t recognize their names.  It sounds like I should.”

Bill’s heart sank.  Where had his Sarah gone?

 

Sarah tried to snooze in the car, but couldn’t find a comfortable position: either something was pressing into her sutures or she felt like she was staring at Bill, who seemed disappointed since lunch.

Well, could she blame him?  She’d kept his rings, but hadn’t put them on yet.  She could feel the sapphire in her pocket pressing into her leg.

Unsure what else to do, she stared at the green fields, full of sprouting crops, until it seemed the whole world must be made of corn.

Passing a sign for Jericho and Monument, Bill slowed and exited the interstate.  He turned right and they drove by a ‘Welcome to Jericho’ sign.  Sarah perked up, looking around the town, hoping for some familiarity.

He must have seen her looking, because Bill slowed down and drove a loop through the small town, pointing out the library where she worked, Town Hall where he worked, the church they attended, and other places of interest to the two of them.  None of them seemed familiar, but she thought Jericho seemed like a quiet little place.  She could see why she might have chosen it as a getaway.

Driving through the neighborhood Bill said was theirs, most of the houses seemed to be one-story and mid-fifties in construction.  Bill pulled into one with little to distinguish it from the others except for the collection of cars out front.  Sarah noted the number largely emblazoned on the mailbox: 72.

 

Bill sat in the car in the garage for a moment, readying himself to go in.  To face his friends and family with this woman who was no longer the person he’d married.  Somehow being at home made the future with her seem all the more stark.

“Should we go in?” Sarah asked.

Forcing a smile, he nodded.  “Yeah, babe.  Let’s go in.”  He walked around and helped her out of the car.  “If it gets too much, say something.  They’ll leave.”

Pam was the first at the door, wrapping Bill in a hug.  She held him just long enough to be awkward with Stanley and Jimmy watching.

“Okay, Mom,” he chuckled.  “I’m not the one who had surgery.”

Bill hugged his dad and noticed Sarah still standing in the doorway, looking lost.  No one seemed to know what to say to her.  He looked at Margaret desperately – she’d been Sarah’s close friend.

Margaret took the hint.  “Hey, hon,” she said, reaching a hand out for Sarah to shake.  “I’m Margaret Taylor.  Let me re-introduce you to everyone else.”

Bill turned to Bonnie and gave her a hug as well.

 _She really doesn’t remember?_ Bonnie signed.

 _No.  I don’t know why,_ Bill signed back.  He glanced at Sarah and she was watching him.  Just like the first time she’d met Bonnie, Bill had warned her that Bonnie was deaf but hadn’t told her he knew sign language.  Oops.

Stanley took two huge steps across the kitchen and pulled Sarah into a hug.  She looked shocked, but let him.  “You may not remember us, but we’ve been worrying about you,” he explained.  “Can’t have you leaving Bill on his own.  He doesn’t function without you anymore.”

Bill felt his cheeks go red and he looked away from everyone.  It was the truth, but he was afraid he’d already lost the Sarah he loved for good.

Some of that Sarah showed up, though.  She was kind and courteous and talked a little bit with everyone.  She worked the room just like the old Sarah would have, with a smile and a quiet laugh.  She showed off her sutures to the delight of Stanley and made a few jokes at her own expense.

It was the first time Bill saw a glimmer of his wife again.

Sarah yawned and Margaret took over before Bill could say anything.  “Okay, you lot.  Let’s let them get some rest.  Time to go!”

Bill saw everyone out the front door and then carted the suitcases in from the car.

He found Sarah looking meek in the hallway – the confident Sarah was gone again.  “May I?” she asked, gesturing down the hallway.

Bill dropped the suitcases.  “This is your house,” he said.  “You go wherever you want, whenever you want.  The bedroom is the last door on the right.  You usually sleep on the far side of the bed and you have that half of the closet, too.”

She nodded and Bill followed her down the hallway.  “And it’s okay if I nap in here?”

Bill tried to smile.  “Yeah, babe.  You nap.  I’m going to go nap on the couch, so you’ll have some privacy.”

Sarah’s eyes widened.  “No, I should sleep on the couch.  I’m the one causing problems, not you.”

“No.  You’re sleeping in your own bed, even if you don’t remember it yet.  If I decide I want a bed, there’s always the guest room.”

Sarah looked around.  “You said we had a dog.  Where is she?”

Bill actually didn’t know.  “She’s either out back or my parents took her for a few days.  I’ll check on her before I nap.”

Sarah nodded slowly.  “Okay.  Didn’t want anything to be wrong.”

The edges of Bill’s mouth twitched up.  That was the caring Sarah from before.  Before he realized what he was doing, he reflexively stepped forward and kissed her forehead.

She looked at him, wide-eyed, and Bill took a quick couple steps back.  “I…I’m sorry,” he said.  “It was habit.”

Shaking her head, Sarah took a step back herself.  “It’s okay,” she said, in contrast to her actions.  “We’re married.  We’re supposed to do stuff like that.”

Bill’s heart broke at the way she spoke – so resigned.  He grabbed his pillow.  “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

 

Sarah slept, finally, and stayed asleep until her stomach woke her for dinner.  She woke feeling a little more grounded and ready to face this reality.

Stopping in the doorway, she heard Bill on the phone.  He obviously hadn’t heard her open the bedroom door, because he was talking about her.

“Fuck, Jimmy, I don’t know anymore.  At first, I thought this was going to be fixed when she got some rest, but I’m really afraid it’s permanent.”

A pause.

“Well, yeah, I can act like we’re dating again – which took _months_ , you remember – but what I’m really scared of is that _I’m_ scaring _her_ and she’ll leave.”

Another break.

“Why should she stay?  She doesn’t remember Jericho or any of us.  Why not divorce me and go back to Chattanooga and her family?”

A short pause.

“Fuck, no, that’s not what I want!  I want _my_ Sarah back, the one who went through everything with me, who remembers me proposing and why we got married.  I’ll take this one, too, if she’ll let me.  I love her, whether she remembers me or not.  But that means I’ve got to let her go if that’s what she wants.”

Sarah leaned against the door frame, listening and thinking.  It hadn’t actually occurred to her that she could divorce Bill and go back home.  In some deep part of her, it was tempting.

But Bill…  Here he was, pouring his heart out to his friend and what he said matched the sense she’d gotten from him all along.  He was a good guy in a crappy situation because of her.  She owed him a chance, at the very least.

She took a step out of the bedroom and the floorboards creaked.  Sarah heard Bill hurriedly hang up.

He stuck his head out of the living room.  “Hey, did you sleep well?  You were out for a good three hours.  Are you hungry?”

“Yes to both,” Sarah said, walking towards him.  She stopped a couple feet from him and bit her lip, trying to put words to what she was thinking.  “Bill…  I still don’t remember anything, but I know I fell in love with you once before.  And, uh, I’m open to doing it again.  But I need a little time to go slow.”

“Your last relationship.  Aaron,” Bill said, nodding hopefully.

Of course he knew about Aaron.  “That and I just need to adjust to all this.  Learn my way around again.  I need to catch up to where you are.  I know this is a regression for you, but can we date for a bit?”

Bill’s expression made her smile a bit; he looked so grateful.  “Of course!”  He glanced into the kitchen.  “Uh.  I’m a terrible cook and I don’t want to ask you to do that your first night home.  Want to go out?”

Going out always sounded good.  “Sure.  Where to?”

“You want a good patty melt?  There’s a diner we…  I know.  It’s where we tried to have our first date.”

“The one…  Stanley interrupted?” Sarah asked, a little unsure if she was remembering the story right.

“That’s the one.  And I bet he won’t be there tonight.”  Bill grinned wide enough she could see his dimples.

Check off another item on the list of why the previous her had been physically attracted to Bill.

They rode in Bill’s car this time, a beat up 90s GMC SUV.  Except no, it wasn’t beat up, it was just the paint job that made it seem like it was.

“What happened to your car?”  Sarah was genuinely curious.

Bill laughed.  “It came this way when I bought it in 2000.  The look doesn’t bother me and I figure it deters break-ins; what can be valuable in a car that looks like this?”

“My dad used to say the same thing about his old trucks,” Sarah replied.  “But he kept them looking good despite that.”

Bill had a soft grin on his face and Sarah figured he knew that story.  He probably knew _all_ her stories.  This was definitely a one-sided date.

 

Bill took his things and slept in the guest room that night.  Supper had gone well enough and it had reminded him of their first dates – back when they were both awkward and somewhat shy.

It hurt a little to fall back that far, but at least she was giving him a chance.  Bill even had an idea of what they could do tomorrow.

His plan started with getting up before Sarah; not hard, he usually did that every day.  Next came breakfast; he might not be able to cook real food worth shit, but he did a mean bacon and eggs, something Sarah loved.

The smell of frying bacon woke her and she came wandering out of the bedroom in warm, long-sleeved pajamas.  “Breakfast?” she asked.  “Don’t you have work?”

Bill shook his head and put another strip of bacon on to fry.  “FMLA.  We’re both still on leave and will be until you get those staples out, at least.  Maybe until you get your memory back or feel up to being on your own.”

Sarah slid into a seat at the table – not her usual one closest to the stove, but one where she could watch Bill cook.

He jumped back as the bacon crackled and sent some hot fat flying his way.  It landed on his arm and stung for just a second.  He shook his arm out and went back to cooking, but he saw Sarah’s face.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking worried.

Bill shook his head.  “I’m fine, babe,” he said, using the pet name out of habit.  “It’s what I get for doing bacon in short sleeves.”

She looked at him funny and he suddenly realized that maybe he should have put on something more than a t-shirt and boxers.  “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

April wasn’t usually that cold in Jericho, but the morning did have a touch of chill that Sarah would feel.  Bill was used to it.  “No,” he explained.  “I’m outside in the actual cold enough for work that room temperature is fine for me.  I run hotter than you do, anyway.”

He slid the last of the cooked bacon onto a plate and put it in the oven to keep warm.  He cracked two eggs into the bacon fat in the skillet and fried up two eggs, over medium with crispy edges, just the way Sarah liked them.  He scrambled some eggs for himself and then plated the food.

Sarah looked amazed when he handed her his plate.  “This is perfect,” she said.  “Should have known you’d know how to make breakfast for me.”

“I’ve done it a few times,” he said.  “And I’ll do it again whenever you like – although you’ll have to get up early for it when I go back to work.  I leave at five-thirty.”

“When do you get out of work?”  Sarah munched on the bacon, looking happy, and Bill smiled to himself.

“I get off patrol at two, but there’s paperwork to be done, so I don’t get home until three or three-thirty.  I work Tuesdays through Saturdays.”

“That’s not too bad,” Sarah said.  “I would have thought your schedule was worse.”

“I lucked out.  My partner is Jimmy – who was here yesterday – and his wife’s the Sheriff’s niece.  We got our pick of the shifts.”

“Ah, nepotism.”  Sarah grinned at him.

That was a genuine smile.  Bill tried not to stare, but this was the first time Sarah had treated him like they were friends and not just acquaintances.  She was actually talking to him, holding a conversation, not just answering questions.

“You feel better today?” he asked.

She was quiet for a minute.  “Well, I took some pain medication when I woke up, so I’m feeling pretty darn good right about now.”

“You think you’re up to staying awake for a while?  I’ve got plans for us today.”  Bill watched her closely for signs of displeasure.

She did frown a bit.  “Not outside, right?  Dr. Peters said I’m supposed to stay inside while my sutures are in.”

“Yeah, and we need to change your dressing soon.  But no worries.  I don’t plan for us to leave the couch today.”

The frown deepened.  “What?”

Bill shot her a grin.  “You used to love _Band of Brothers_ , especially after finding out my grandfather was one of the men profiled.  I think you’ll still love it, so I want to watch it with you today.  It’s one of those things that might stimulate your brain into finding your memories again.”

Sarah’s face lightened.  “That makes sense to try.  And it’s obviously something important to you that I should know about.”

That wasn’t quite why Bill wanted to do this, but if the explanation worked for her…  “Yeah, babe.  It was something important to us both.  I want to share it with you again.”

Sarah tried to help Bill clean up the dishes, but he shooed her out of the kitchen.  When he finished, he went and changed out of his now-wet t-shirt and put on casual clothes for the day.

When he entered the living room, Sarah was curled up on the couch.  She looked alarmed.  “Should I have gotten dressed?” she asked, worried.

He crouched in front of the TV, looking for the DVDs.  “No, you’re fine.  It’s a good pajama day; I just got mine wet washing the dishes.”  Ah, there they were.  Bill popped in the first disc and settled in on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah.  Just like when she was sick that one time.

Sarah watched the show, captivated.  Bill had been right; this Sarah still liked her history.  He personally watched her more than the show; he’d seen it plenty of times before.

He got up and switched to the second disc and looked back to find Sarah scooted to the middle of the couch.

Wow.  She wanted to be closer to him, maybe.

“Do you mind if I lay down?” she asked, bursting his bubble.

“Sure.  Go right ahead.”  As if he’d deny her something like that.

Sarah lay down on the couch with her head near his recliner, keeping her sutures in the air.  Bill debated where to sit.

He finally decided to sit on the floor, leaning back against the couch.  He was within arm’s reach of Sarah if she wanted him, but he wasn’t hovering near her head.

Sometime in the fifth episode, he heard her ask permission for something.

“What?”

“Can I touch your hair?” she asked quietly, like she was embarrassed.  “I just… it’s something to play with and people usually like their hair brushed.”

He loved it when she played with his hair idly, or wound her fingers in it when they were being intimate.  And this was more progress.  “Of course you can,” he said, equally softly.  “I’d like that.”

He felt Sarah’s fingers brush through his hair, still messed up from sleep, and he closed his eyes.  He could just about imagine he had _his_ Sarah back now.

 

Sarah was trying to push herself, to see if that sparked anything.  Normally, she’d never play with a guy’s hair unless they were dating, but… well, technically she and Bill were beyond dating, even if he’d agreed to act like they were.

Bill’s hair was soft but stubborn; she couldn’t quite get his bedhead to go away.  She almost took it as a personal challenge, but she was too distracted by the TV.  He’d been right; she loved this show so far.  And to hear Bill add in personal remembrances of the people showcased…  Her inner history geek was in heaven.

Closing her eyes, Sarah tried to take in all that was happening: the softness of Bill’s hair, the sound of the TV, the feel of the slightly scratchy but plushy couch…

And all of a sudden, she knew what the next line in the show would be.  She gasped and sat up, pulling Bill’s hair a little.

“Ow!” he said, turning to look at her.  “What was that–?”

“I remembered something,” Sarah said, concentrating on the TV to see if anything else came back.  No, it seemed to be just that one line.  Had she really remembered it or just made a good guess?

Hope filled Bill’s face when she looked at him again.  “You did?”

“I think,” Sarah said.  “I knew a line that was coming up in the show, but that was it.  I don’t remember anything else.”

He sat up on his knees, elbows on the couch.  “But… that’s something.  It’s proof of what Dr. Peters said, that you can rebuild the pathways to your memories.”

“It was just one line,” she pointed out.  “I might have made a lucky guess.”

“But if we keep doing things we used to do, then maybe more will come back.”

Sarah didn’t think Bill heard her saying it could be a mistake.  Mentally shrugging, she guessed she couldn’t blame him.  The man wanted her to get back her memories, to become who she was before the surgery.  Of _course_ he was going to focus on the positives.

“Yeah, maybe,” she agreed.  “What were you thinking?  I’m not supposed to leave the house.”

“Well, there’re other movies we watched together and pictures on the computers and that wedding scrapbook your mom put together for us,” Bill suggested.  “We can come up with stuff between now and Monday.  When you get your sutures out, I can take you places.  Restaurants, hiking spots, maybe even the range.”

He sounded so excited.  Sarah really hoped she could live up to his hopes.

 

They watched all eleven hours of _Band of Brothers_.  Bill had thought he might drag some of his grandfather’s things out of the bin in the attic, but Sarah was wiped out asleep when the show ended.

Biting his lip, he stood and watched her.  He could manage carrying her to bed, but should he?  Or should he just tuck her in here and quietly find something else to do until bedtime?

He decided to try it.  Cautiously, he slid his arms under Sarah’s back and legs and picked her up.  It didn’t wake her – good.  He carried her to their still-unmade bed and worked the sheets up over her.

Bill decided to go for broke.  He sat at the foot of the bed and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers, then climbed in the bed, facing Sarah.  He didn’t intend to stay long, just enough to let him feel like he had his wife back, and then he’d be off to the living room, followed by a night in the guestroom.  Again.

It took all his will not to try and fix her hair around her bandages, not to touch her at all when normally, he’d’ve reached out and pulled her close.  His arms ached to hold Sarah again – she was so close but so far away right now.  Even when they’d fought and weren’t talking before, he hadn’t felt this sort of distance between them.

He closed his eyes to try and hold back the tears welling up.  Last thing Bill needed was to break down.  He needed to stay stoic, to not let on how much he hurt, how much he really just wanted to curl up and sleep with his wife again, to give in to his heavy eyelids and drift off…

 

Sarah woke slowly, feeling warm and comfortable.  There was a distinct smell – sweet and earthy and safe – that filled the air around her.  For a moment, everything seemed right in her world.

Then she opened her eyes.

Bill was curled up in the bed next to her, arms around her, holding her to his chest.  His chin rested on her forehead, breath disturbing her hair.

Probably he’d lain down and fell asleep on accident and holding her was just instinct.  Probably.  Truth was, Sarah didn’t know for sure.  Despite the fact that he seemed familiar to her, she didn’t really know this man.  What she’d learned had all been good, but she definitely wasn’t ready to share a bed with him.  Not yet.

Sarah tried to pull back quickly, waking Bill in the process.  He pulled her closer for a moment, then seemed to remember their situation.  He let go and rapidly pushed back far enough to fall off the bed.

Sitting up quickly, Sarah gasped, but Bill peeked over the side of the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said right away.  “I didn’t mean to fall asleep; I was just trying to make sure you were okay and settled in.  And I definitely didn’t mean to hold you like that, not until you were comfortable with it.”

“I’m not comfortable with it,” Sarah said, still shaken and a little betrayed.  “I’m not okay with it.”

Bill pulled himself up to sit on the side of the bed.  Burying his face in his hands, he continued, “I’m sorry, again.  I just…  I mean…  I miss you, Sarah.  And I thought for a moment I could pretend I had you back.  I never should have done that.  Never should have gotten on the bed.”

He sounded so heartbroken that Sarah almost forgot he’d overstepped the bounds they’d set before.  ‘Just dating’ wouldn’t sleep together like that, at least not so soon.

“I think I want to sleep on the couch,” Sarah said slowly, glancing at the clock.  Two a.m.  She could flip through the TV channels until she fell asleep again, until her heart stopped pounding.  “You can stay in here or wherever.  Just… not with me,” she said.

The sorrow in his voice spread to his face and Bill nodded.  “I understand,” he said morosely.  “Do you need me to get you an extra blanket?”

“Closet in the hall, right?”

Bill looked up at her, hopeful.  “Did you remember that?”

“No,” she admitted.  “It seemed like the logical place.”

“Oh,” he said softly.  “Well, you were right.”

Sarah left Bill sitting on the bed and tried not to look back at how sad she’d made him.  He’d messed up and brought this on himself, she reminded herself.

 

Sarah was still asleep when Bill woke up.  He stood in the door of the living room, debating waking her, but decided against it.  Maybe she just needed some time alone.

As quietly as he could, Bill pulled out some movies they loved together and their wedding album and set them on the coffee table.  Tonight, he’d show her the rest of their pictures on her desktop.  It was a gamble, leaving things like this, but this was a good start if she was willing to look.  On his way out the door, he clicked on Sarah’s electric kettle, setting it to hold the water hot for a couple hours.  She could have tea when she woke up, maybe.

Idling his SUV in the driveway, Bill texted Jimmy.  He was officially off work, but the Sheriff didn’t have to know he met up with Jimmy for a little bit.  He wouldn’t even work, just talk.

Jimmy agreed to meet him at the library and pick him up.  Bill didn’t comment on the choice of location.

“You sound bad,” Jimmy said without preamble.  “What’s wrong?”

Bill slumped down in the passenger seat of the patrol car, pushing the computer up to the dash where it wasn’t poking into his chest.  “Everything,” he moped.  “Every time I do something right, I mess it up.”

“You’re probably wrong,” Jimmy said.  “It’s only been three days since her surgery.  You’re both bound to stumble some.”

“Maybe,” Bill muttered.  “But I messed up big last night.  She fell asleep on the couch, so I carried her to the bedroom.”

“Like you would normally do?”

“Sometimes, yeah.  And I laid down with her just for a minute, to imagine I had _my_ Sarah back and I fell asleep.  And in my sleep, I pulled her close.  I didn’t even know I was doing it; it’s just how we used to sleep.  But Sarah woke up like that and was upset with me.”

Jimmy commiserated.  “That’s rough, buddy.  But you’ve got to keep in mind what she’s going through.”

Bill slammed his fist on the door.  “Damn it!  For the last three days, all I’ve done is try to imagine what she’s going through and help her through it.  But what about me?” he asked.  “What about what _I’m_ going through?  Can you imagine if Margaret suddenly forgot who you were?  It’s not just rough on Sarah.”  He’d never complain like this to anyone but Jimmy.

Jimmy reached out and squeezed Bill’s shoulder.  “I know that.  I can’t imagine losing Margaret like that.”

“But I’ve lost Sarah.  She had a moment of remembering something yesterday, but it was so brief even _she_ doubted it happened.  Everything since then has pulled her away from me.”  Bill looked out the window, watching the farms go by.  “I don’t know if it’s possible to get her back.”

“It was one bad night, Bill.  I’m sure you haven’t sent her running.  Remember, head injuries can cause mood swings.  You were just as volatile after your concussion.  That’s probably all this is, too.”

Bill hoped his friend was right.

 

The house was quiet when Sarah woke.  She folded her blanket and wandered the hall, peering in all the rooms.  There was hot water in an electric kettle in the kitchen and Bill’s SUV was gone from the garage.  If he left a note, she didn’t see it.

She explored the cabinets until she found tea, mugs, and sweetener.  She fixed a cup of some flowery herbal blend in the largest mug she could find and went back into the living room, planning to see if she could find some sort of local news channel.

As she sat on the couch, Sarah noticed the scrapbook left out for her.  She picked it up and flipped through.

She recognized the church – it was the little place in Cataloochee in the Smokies.  She’d always thought it would be a nice place to get married.

Apparently she had.

She recognized her family and friends – cousins, aunts, uncles, her best friend from elementary school, grandmothers.  And her parents.

God, she missed her parents right now.  She wished she’d gone with them back to Chattanooga, not stayed here with a man she barely knew.  Her old self had loved him, but was that enough reason to stay when the new her didn’t?  When she was upset and felt like she couldn’t trust him?

Choking back tears, Sarah found her purse and in it, a cell phone.  She scrolled through names she didn’t recognize until she reached her mother’s.  It was Friday; her mother should be off work if that hadn’t changed, too.

Nancy answered on the third ring.  “How are you feeling?”

“Mom,” Sarah said, sniffling.  “I want to come home.”

There was a short silence on the other end.  “Sarah, sweetheart, you _are_ home.  You live there now, with Bill.”

“No,” Sarah argued.  “The old me did.  Right now everything’s too strange and I want to come home to you and Dad.”

“Have you talked to Bill about this?”

“No.  He’s a stranger.  Maybe I’ll remember better where everything is familiar.”

“You know your old room isn’t here anymore, right?”

Sarah and her mom went back and forth a few more times before Nancy sighed.  “Okay.  I’ll book you a flight out of Kansas City for Tuesday after you get your sutures out.  I’ll buy insurance for it in case you change your mind.”

“I’m not changing my mind.”  The tears were drying up now that Sarah had an escape.

“You might.  My condition for this is that you give Bill another chance this weekend – _and_ that you tell him you have a flight here.  Today.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And _try_ to remember your life out there.  Don’t give up.”

It was too late for that, Sarah thought.

 

It was lunchtime before Bill returned home.  “I brought pizza,” he announced when he walked in from the garage.

Sarah stood in the door between the kitchen and the hallway, blocking Bill in.  “I’m going home,” she said.  “Tuesday, after the doctor’s visit.  I’ve already got my ticket.”  She held up her phone, an email pulled up.

Bill’s heart dropped.  “You’re what?”

Sarah sighed.  “I’m not remembering things.  I’m hurting you by being here and by not being my old self.  I’m uncomfortable and out of place.  It’ll be easier if I just go back to Chattanooga until I remember things.”

 _If_ she remembered things was the unspoken threat, but Bill heard it loud and clear.  He felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him: Sarah was leaving him.  It was a nightmare come true.

And just after Jimmy had made him feel a little more confident, too.

Bill steadied himself against the back of a chair.  “You’re sure that’s what you want?”

She nodded and stared at the sink, away from him.  Bill knew he must look how he felt: horrified and scared and angry all at once.  He schooled his face.  He could behave better than that, but he’d never had to hide his feelings from Sarah before.

“If this is because of last night, I really am sorry and it won’t happen again,” he tried, speaking carefully so his voice didn’t waver.

“It’s not just last night,” Sarah said.  “I appreciate that you’re trying, but this isn’t working.”

“Sarah, it’s only been three days!” Bill protested.

“And we’ve got three more days,” Sarah said calmly.

Three days to get her to remember enough to want to stay.  It seemed impossible.

“Will you let me try to help you remember?” he asked cautiously.

Sarah looked at him again.  “Yeah, I will.  I _want_ to remember.  I just don’t know if I can do that here.”

If not here, then where?  How was she going to remember Jericho in Chattanooga?  Bill didn’t get her logic.

Maybe it wasn’t logic.  Maybe she was just tired and scared of… of him?  What else could it be?

God, bring his Sarah back to him before this one leaves, he prayed.

 

Bill took his half of the pizza and went to the office to bring up the photos, but decided to check his computer first.

There, in his email, was a forwarded plane ticket from Nancy.

 _I’m sorry_ , the message read.  _I hope she changes her mind._

Yeah, Bill thought bitterly.  Sorry enough to buy Sarah a ticket away from him.

Taking a deep breath, Bill worked to push down the anger he felt.  Ken and Nancy were as trapped as much as he was.  They all wanted Sarah to get her memories back.  The Morgans were simply trying what Sarah wanted.  Bill was sure if he ever had a child, he’d do the same.  He just hated being the one left behind.

Bill ignored the hollowness in his chest and rolled his chair to Sarah’s computer.  He typed in her password – the woman used the same password for _everything_ and he always chided her about it – and found her pictures folder, organized by year and event date.

He pulled up 2010 and found the first pictures she’d taken in Jericho: a night out with coworkers and a selfie with Joanna.

Staring at that photo, Bill quickly ate his pizza, wishing he’d grabbed a paper towel.

Sarah quietly appeared in the doorway.  “You said to follow you when I was finished?”

Bill swallowed his last bite of crust and nodded.  “Here, this is your chair and your computer.  I just want to show you the pictures we took over the years.  In case it jogs another memory.”

Appearing skeptical, Sarah sat down anyway.  “Who is this?” she asked.

“That’s your friend, Joanna,” Bill explained patiently.  “You work with her at the library and she was the first friend you made here in town.

Bill clicked through another few pictures.  “That was your cat, Jackson.  You saved him from the middle of the road in Goodland, but he’d been hit by a car and ended up losing an eye.”

“Where is he now?” Sarah asked.

Bill shook his head.  “He died last September.  He’s buried out back.”

A couple tears ran down Sarah’s face.  “I had a pet I don’t remember,” she said sadly.  “That really hurts, like I’ve betrayed his trust.”

What about me? Bill wanted to ask.  Why doesn’t it hurt you that _we_ had a relationship you don’t remember?

He kept his mouth shut and continued flipping through photos.  In the 2011 folder, he found pictures from their Valentine’s Day trip.  Bill was clicking through Garden of the Gods photos, gearing up to tell her about her fall, when a picture of him looking disapproving popped up.

Sarah reached over and squeezed his arm.  “Stop!  I remember this.  I was up high somewhere and you wanted me down.  There’s another picture just like this.”

The tightness in Bill’s chest lessened.  “You’re right,” he said, clicking to the next, nearly identical picture.  “Do you remember what happened next?”

Sarah’s face screwed up in concentration.  “No,” she said finally.  “I don’t.”

“I told you ‘I love you’ for the first time,” Bill said.  “And it startled you enough that you fell.  That’s the reason for the scar on your left wrist and why it hurts your leg if you try to run or climb.”

Sarah looked at her arm and Bill realized she hadn’t noticed the scar.  It still had slight indentations where the stitches were and a bit of a hollow where the skin had healed together, but it was pretty low-profile for a large scar.  “So can I still climb?” she asked finally.

“It hurts your leg,” Bill said, pointing to her left one.  “So you quit.  We even cut down on hiking for a while after you healed.”

Slumping in her seat, Sarah waved at the computer.  “Tell me what else I can’t do now,” she said sullenly.  “Show me more things I can’t remember.”

“Hey,” Bill said, lightly touching her arm to get her attention.  “You just had another memory return.  That’s two now.  You’re making progress.”

“But it’s sporadic and nothing important!”  Sarah met his gaze and he saw distress in her eyes, too.

“It’s a start.  More will come,” he promised.  At least this latest memory included him.

Shooting him a skeptical look, Sarah reached over and clicked to the next photo:  Bill asleep in a hospital room chair.

“Tuesday wasn’t the first time you had to sit in a hospital for me?”

“That was the ER in Colorado Springs.  And you’ve sat in one for me,” Bill said gently.  “The next Valentine’s.  My patrol car got hit and they kept me overnight at the clinic here.  You stayed with me then.”

Bill let Sarah click through the rest of the photos, pointing out important events and people.  He kept hoping she’d perk up at one, but no such luck.

 

Sarah was beginning to recognize people in the photos, but only because she’d seen so many photos.  She recognized events from stories Bill had told her in the hospital, but there was no emotional connection.

She stopped at a picture from the wedding reception, when someone caught them kissing.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bill look away.  She knew it must hurt him to see the old her, but as much as Sarah wanted to, she didn’t feel anything.

She’d promised her mom she would try, though.  Being stuck in this house wasn’t doing her much good.  “Take me out,” she said.  “I want to get out of the house.”

Bill turned back to her.  “Dr. Peters said–”

“Forget what Dr. Peters said,” Sarah snapped.  “We’ll clean my surgery site extra well when we get back.  Take me to places I need to remember.  To people I need to remember.”

Bill leaned back in his chair.  “Okay,” he said after a minute.  “But you tell me the _minute_ you feel tired or sore.”

Nodding agreement to his terms, Sarah went to the bedroom to get dressed.

Staring in the closet brought another sense of the unknown.  She knew a few of these clothes, but most of them were completely new.  Bought to cover her extra weight, she supposed.  And from the look of the sweaters, bought to account for colder winters.

Her taste hadn’t changed, though.  Sarah was able to find clothes she was comfortable with – and comfortable in – with ease.

Bill smiled sadly when she met him in the kitchen.  “That’s one of your favorite outfits,” he said softly.

Sarah didn’t know if it’d hurt him less to look like her old self or to look completely different.  It seemed she was destined to harm him no matter what.  Of course, she was going to wound him most of all when she left Tuesday.  She knew that and she was still going to do it.

Like a gentleman, Bill held the car door open for Sarah, closing it for her once she was seated.  He’d done that the day they came home from the hospital, but she’d assumed it was because he thought she was weak.  Maybe he did that all the time for her.

Bill set off without asking her where to go.  It was a short drive; one mile got them downtown and Bill pulled in behind Town Hall.

“That’s my car,” he said, pointing to a white patrol car with green stripes.  “Number 11037.  On the radio I’m Adam 1-12.  The Sheriff’s 1-10 and Jimmy’s 1-11.  Sometimes Jimmy and I share a car for the day, but we split up at least half the time.  We always drive separately on Saturdays because they’re so busy.”

“Have I ever gone out with you?” Sarah asked.  The car didn’t spark any memories on sight.

“A couple times, on days when you’re off work at the library.”  He opened the car door.  “Come on, let’s go in.”

Bill waited for Sarah to round the car.  “This is where we first met.”

“You told me in the hospital.”

“The Sheriff doesn’t know about your memory problems.  Is it okay to tell him?” Bill asked, standing with his hand on the door.

Sarah shrugged.  “It’ll be kinda obvious if I talk to him, won’t it?”

“It will.  But I wanted your permission.”

Sarah couldn’t help but feel touched by his concern.  He opened the door and she went in, hit by a blast of air conditioning from above the door.  An older man was behind the counter, leaning over the desk of a woman probably his same age.

“Sheriff Mike Dawes,” Bill whispered in her ear.  “And Judy Merrell, our daytime radio operator.”

“What are you two doing here, Bill?” the Sheriff asked loudly.  “You’re still on leave.”

“Yes, sir,” Bill said and Sarah saw him straighten up when the Sheriff spoke to him.  She hadn’t realized how drawn into himself he’d been.  “Needed to talk to you about that.”  He gestured to a glass-walled office in the back of the room.

It caught her by surprise, but Sarah didn’t protest when Bill grabbed her hand and led her to the sheriff’s office.  She wouldn’t complain in public, at least.  Later, though…

Sheriff Dawes closed the door behind them.  “What’s this about?  Glad to see you doing well, ma’am.”  He nodded at Sarah, who sat in one of the available chairs.

Bill remained standing, though he put his hand on the back of Sarah’s chair.  “That’s just it, sir.  She’s _not_ doing well.  There were complications from the surgery.”

“So you’re telling me you need more time?  What kind of complications, if I may ask?”

“A large chunk of my memory is gone,” Sarah answered before Bill could speak.  “I don’t remember anything of the last three years or so.”

“I don’t know if more time off would help,” Bill said forlornly.  “But if I do need to take time off after next Tuesday, I wanted you to know why.”

The Sheriff leaned forward on his desk and studied Sarah.  “You really don’t remember a thing?”

Sarah shrugged.  “I’ve had a couple flashes of memories, but that’s it.  No big revelations.”

“How odd.”  He leaned back in his chair.  “But other than your memories, you’re healing well?  Surgery was successful?”

Sarah looked up at Bill, unsure how much he wanted to tell his boss.

“Yes, sir, to both.  She’ll need to go back in a month and for regular checkups, but we can probably get those scheduled on Mondays so it doesn’t affect my work.”

He was planning on her being here in a month, Sarah noted.  Or at least was putting on that face in public.  Did he not believe she was really going back to Tennessee?  Surely they’d find an oncologist closer to home to do her checkups.

 

Bill bit his tongue until they were standing outside once more.  “Did you remember anything?” he asked hurriedly, anxious for the answer.

Sarah shook her head.  “No.  And you shouldn’t have grabbed my hand like that.”

Unbeknownst to him, Bill’s shoulders slumped and he collapsed in on himself once again.  The confident Bill who’d talked to his boss was gone.

There was only one place Bill turned to when he felt like this: he took Sarah to the Taylors’ house.

Jimmy should have been headed back in around the time Bill and Sarah left the station, so it was just Margaret and the kids at the house.  That was enough for Bill; Margaret usually knew what to do.

There were shrieks and shouts when they rang the doorbell.  Six year old Woody answered the door, with three year old Sally not far behind.  Margaret ran up and grabbed both kids, apologizing.

“I remember them,” Sarah said suddenly.  “The kids.  They were smaller, but I remember them.”  She knelt down and held her arms open.

Astonished, both Bill and Margaret exchanged glances.  Margaret let the kids go and they hugged Sarah, who seemed genuinely happy for one moment.

Margaret looked at Bill over Sarah’s head and he shrugged, making an ‘I don’t know’ face.

This was another memory returned, though.  A big one, not just a line in a TV show or a photo.  Maybe Sarah would start remembering more people, Bill hoped.

Of course, Margaret welcomed them in and they stayed until close to dinnertime:  Sarah played with the kids in the backyard while Bill talked to Margaret and Jimmy – once he arrived – inside.

“She says she’s leaving Tuesday,” he confessed, sitting in his usual spot on the Taylors’ couch.  He almost didn’t tell them about Sarah’s plans; they hurt too much to think about.  “Says she doesn’t want to be here while she doesn’t remember it.  She’s got a plane ticket already and everything.”

Jimmy squeezed Bill’s shoulder.  “You’ve still got three days.  And she got two memories back today.”

“But will that be enough?” Bill asked, holding back tears again.  “Will a few memories keep her here with me?  Will she even keep getting them back?”

Sarah tired soon and Bill took her home, fed her some of his poor cooking, helped her clean her surgical wound, and left her to get ready for bed by herself.  He fell asleep in his recliner watching infomercials into the wee hours of the morning.

He just couldn’t shake the mental image of Sarah walking onto a plane without him.

 

Bill’s fears were well-founded – the return of Sarah’s memories stagnated.  Sunday, he took her to see the Richmonds and then out to eat at their favorite barbecue joint.

No memories, just a tired and grumpy Sarah by the time they got home.

It was like she didn’t even _enjoy_ his company anymore.  She was just using him to try to get more memories back and he was failing her there – so what good _was_ he?

He really couldn’t resent it; Sarah had been through a lot and he asked a lot of her.  He wanted her to remember him so desperately, he was probably pushing her too hard.  No wonder she wanted to go back to Tennessee.

Monday morning, he took her by the library, hoping a visit with Joanna would jog some memories.  Another failure.

They ate lunch at a deli on Main Street where they sometimes met for a quick meal together during work.  Still no memories, but Sarah had an idea.

“We’ve got a couple hours before we need to leave for Kansas City and we’re both already packed.  Take me to the range,” she insisted.  “Take me shooting.”

Bill’s eyes widened.  “That seems like _exactly_ the sort of thing Dr. Peters didn’t want you to do.  What if you get gunpowder in your sutures?”

“Screw Dr. Peters,” Sarah said, unusually vehement – or unusual for her old self.  This new Sarah was brasher and crasser, so unlike the one he used to know.  “Take me to the range anyway.”

Bill didn’t argue.  He always carried his pistol, so they just needed to stop by the house and pick up Sarah’s revolver and some ammo.  They drove out to the sheriff’s department range in silence, Sarah looking over her unloaded handgun.

“I don’t remember buying this, but I remember how to shoot.  I knew that for years,” she said.

“Yeah, hon.” Bill tried so hard to be soft and gentle with her, to be kind enough to make her want to stay.  He knew this might be his last chance.  “Your parents bought that for you just before you moved out here.  Christmas present.”

“Huh.”

At the range, Bill set up both their targets and made sure Sarah had everything she needed.  He tried to hang back surreptitiously to make sure she really _did_ remember how to shoot.

She had everything right except her stance.  Bill nudged her foot with his.  “Little wide there,” he said just loudly enough to be heard through ear protection.

Sarah turned her face to him, mouth agape.  “I remember seeing gold,” she said, without elaboration.

Seeing gold?  At the range?  Bill had no clue what she was talking about.  “Another memory!  That’s good,” he enthused anyway.  Please let it be a big enough memory to keep her in Jericho, he prayed.

Sarah didn’t explain anything.  She turned back to the range and started shooting.  There was some muscle memory that remained, because she shot as well as she had before the surgery, after three years of Bill working with her.  It was different enough from the way she’d shot when she moved to Jericho that Sarah commented on it.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “You’ve gotten a lot better.  We come here once a week when we can.”  He waited for her to put a new target up and call for the range to go hot and then he let loose with his pistol.  He was using a body outline target and put every single one of his bullets through the head.

Was he thinking about Sarah’s memory problems as he aimed?  Absolutely.  Did it help?  Not nearly as much as he’d hoped.

After an hour, he called it quits for them both.  Bill wanted to get Sarah home in time to clean her sutures well before they hit the road for Kansas City.

Kansas City, where answers might await them.

Where the airport waited, whether they got the answers or not.

 

Flashes of a golden halo surrounding an attractive face.  Golden eyes in the sun.  It’d been her first clear memory of Bill to return, but she couldn’t explain it to him, not without feeling embarrassed.

So Sarah had just shot, surprising herself how well she did.  Although no wonder she’d improved if they came to the range as frequently as Bill said.

He fussed and fretted around her at the house, cleaning her sutures and changing the dressing.  Sarah had to keep from rolling her eyes.

She felt sorry for him.  He’d so obviously tried to find reasons for her to stay, but she hadn’t seen any yet.  She was still going to leave tomorrow – Sarah was actually excited about the prospect of going home.  Familiarity and comfort and her old routine: she eagerly anticipated them all.

It would be rude to tell Bill that, though, so she kept silent on their five-hour drive to Kansas City.

The plane ticket hung over them anyway.  Bill would occasionally bring up some tidbit about their history and Sarah would ignore it and nod politely.  She wasn’t in the mood to change her mind unless something drastic happened.

 

Nothing drastic happened.  They reached their hotel and changed the room from a king to two double beds – Sarah’s mom had been hopeful when she booked it.  Their night was much like nights back in Jericho: quiet and separate.  Sarah flipped through the TV channels.  Bill wandered down to the hotel restaurant and came back a little tipsy.

“I love you,” he said earnestly.  “Love you so much.  Don’ want you to leave.  Want you to remember me, stay with me.  Don’ know what I’ll do without you.”

“You’ll do what you did before I moved there,” Sarah said practically.  The overt affection was a little uncomfortable.  “It won’t be hard; you’ve done it before.”

Bill flopped on his bed, staring at the ceiling.  “Was lonely.  Didn’ think I’d ever find someone.  Found _you_.  And now I lost you.  Wasn’t good enough to keep you.”

Sarah wasn’t trying to be cold-hearted.  She might not love Bill, but seeing anyone this unhappy made her sad, too.  She reached out a hand and he took it.  “It’s not ‘cause you’re not good enough,” she said.  “It’s ‘cause I can’t remember.  If I remember, I’ll come back.  But don’t give up on your life just because I left.  Date.  Have fun.  Be the person the old me loved and you’ll find someone new.”

A tear leaked out of Bill’s eye.  “I don’t want someone new,” he whispered, then took his hand back and rolled so his back was to her.

Sarah took that as her cue to go to bed.  They didn’t say anything else that night.

 

They didn’t even see Dr. Peters the next day.  A nurse simply clipped the staples in Sarah’s head and made note that she had only recovered a few memories.  Bill wanted to protest that surely Sarah deserved more attention than that, but he held his tongue.  Sarah seemed satisfied with it, after all.

Somehow, Bill had hoped Dr. Peters would help convince Sarah to stay, but it seemed he was out of luck.

Almost on autopilot, Bill took Sarah to the airport.  He hefted her suitcase out of the trunk of the car – he couldn’t believe she was abandoning her car, but she wasn’t allowed to drive just yet – and stood there looking at her, unsure of what to say.

Sarah turned to go but stopped.  “Oh!” she said and dug in her jeans pocket.  “These are yours.”

She dropped her engagement and wedding rings in his hand, still warm from the proximity to her skin.

Bill closed his fist around them and nodded.  “Have a safe flight,” he choked out, remembering at the last minute not to add, “Call me when you get there.”

Sarah nodded and disappeared into the airport.

Bill silently got back in the car, drove out of sight of the departure drop-offs, and pulled over again.

This time, he wept, still clinging to Sarah’s rings.

The tears dried up in a bit and Bill dropped the rings into the cupholder.  He pulled out his phone and texted the Morgans that he’d dropped Sarah off and she should be headed their way soon.

 _I’m sorry_ , came the response.

Yeah, Bill too.

Five hours separated him from Jericho and he spent every one trying to think of what else he could have done to keep her.  If only he’d never fallen asleep on the bed; that seemed to have been her turning point.

Once he hit Jericho, Bill stopped by his parents’ house for dinner and to pick up Sadie.  He’d left his dog with them all week because he’d been trying to be so focused on Sarah – and was a little afraid dog hair and dander would get into her sutures.  Sadie seemed to forgive him right away, thankfully, and he was glad to see her.  He didn’t want to be completely alone.

Dinner was less pleasant.  He had to recount the entire week of slowly losing Sarah, explaining why she left and that he didn’t know if she was ever coming back.

“What are you going to do without her?” Pam asked.

Bill shrugged.  “Get up in the morning, put on my uniform, and go to work like nothing’s wrong.  What I did before I met her.”

“Bill, darling…”

“It’s all I _can_ do, Mom.”

 

Sarah’s parents were waiting for her just outside the airport.  They greeted her with hugs and Sarah cried a little; she was so glad to be home again.  Even the air smelled more familiar here in Tennessee.

On the drive home, Sarah told them about her week in Jericho and the few memories she’d recovered.

Nancy glanced back at her, a sad look on her face.  “Are you sure you gave Bill enough of a chance?”

Sarah shot her a look.  “Mom.  I gave him a chance.  That isn’t up for discussion.”

Nancy turned back around.  “We’ll talk about it later.”  She waited a moment before changing the subject.  “We’ve set up the guest room for you and your grandmother is dying to see you.”

Of course she was.  Sarah apparently hadn’t seen her since the wedding.

“What do you plan on doing?” Nancy asked.

Sarah shrugged.  “I figured finding a therapist might help with my memory issues, so I was going to start there tomorrow.  Then maybe figure out a job I can get to without a car.”

Ken nodded as if that was entirely sensible.  “There might be something at the Aquarium,” he offered.

They pulled into the drive of the house they’d had since Sarah was in high school and she breathed a sigh of relief.  Home.  It was good to be back.

There was some new furniture in the house, but it was basically laid out the same as Sarah recalled.  The cat even came up to sniff her and get pets, just as she always used to.

Ken carried her suitcase up the stairs and down the hall, to the room next to her old one.  The guest room had been redecorated since she last saw it, but it was still the same blue-and-yellow color scheme her mom loved.  Sarah sat on the bed, which squeaked under her weight.

It wasn’t her old room, but it was close enough.  This is where she wanted to be.  Maybe she could start over again here.

After she unpacked her things, Sarah wandered back downstairs to find her Mom tackling laundry already.

“Want to bring yours down and I’ll do it, too?” Nancy offered.

Sarah was not one to pass up free laundry service.  She got the clothes she’d worn in Kansas City and helped Nancy sort them into the different loads.  Sarah leaned against the door jamb, watching her mother work.

“Thank you for bringing me back,” she said.  “I wasn’t comfortable there.”

Nancy looked at her sadly.  “You were willing to try it at first.  What changed?”

“Bill just… wanted the old me too badly and I’m not her anymore.”  She told her mom about the forehead kiss, waking up in his arms, holding her hand.

Nancy shook her head.  “It really sounds to me like he just slipped up those times.  It wasn’t on purpose.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not it was on purpose,” argued Sarah.  “It still wasn’t right.”

“Sarah, that boy wouldn’t do a thing to hurt you,” Nancy pointed out.  “We could tell right away he was head over heels for you and still is.”

“But _I’m_ not in love with him.”

“It sounds like you decided not to be as soon as he slipped up once.  None of the things he did were harmful – they were mild things husbands and wives do.  Like it or not, you’re married to him.  You made vows and promises.  He’s kept them.  I’m not so sure you have.”

Sarah shrunk a little under her mother’s accusations.  There was some truth to them.

 

The days passed slowly.  Each morning, Bill got up and let Sadie out in the backyard while he got ready for work.  He worked – by himself at first, because he couldn’t stand Jimmy’s sympathy.  He took risks by himself, going on calls without backup or proper precautions.  He did his paperwork sullenly and came home.  He walked Sadie, made something simple for dinner, and stared blankly at the TV until it was time for bed.  He drank _something_ – beer or liquor, it didn’t make much difference to him – every night, just to get to sleep.

He slept on the couch.  The bed was just too empty and still smelled of Sarah.

It was the little things that got him, like her toothbrush still in the bathroom or the shoes she’d left behind.  He would sit and stare into her side of the closet for hours, imagining her there, in those clothes, if he didn’t stop himself.

Even with Sadie there, the house was too empty.  This was why he hadn’t wanted to move in until he was married.  Yet here he was, alone and hopeless.

Friday, he felt up to sharing patrol with Jimmy.  Jimmy’s scrutinizing gaze was almost too much, but Bill knew his partner was trying to watch out for him.  He kept the conversation short and perfunctory, however.

“You look like crap.  You’re eating dinner with us tonight,” Jimmy instructed.

Bill wasn’t up to arguing.  He followed Jimmy home and fell onto the couch.  He took the offered beer, unclipped his tie, and undid the top few buttons of his uniform shirt.  Physically, he was more comfortable.  Maybe the beer would help him mentally.

Margaret and the kids got home around the time Bill finished downing his first beer.  He started to go for a second, knowing it was a bad idea, but Margaret stopped him.

“You’ve moped all week, haven’t you?” she asked, her tone of voice saying she knew the answer already.

Bill nodded morosely.  You didn’t lie to Margaret.  She’d know.  He really wanted that second beer right about now, though.  Maybe if he answered her questions, she’d move and let him get on with his self-destructive desires.  It wasn’t as if he had a reason to look out for himself anymore.  Only one counting on him now was Sadie.

“Bill Koehler, you need to stop pitying yourself right now,” Margaret said firmly.  “She’s gone to Tennessee.  She hasn’t filed for divorce.”

“She’s not coming back, though,” Bill said hollowly.  “I’ve lost her whether or not she divorces me – and that’s probably only a matter of time.”

“Maybe.  From what you told us last week, you sat by pretty passively and hoped she’d be fixed.  I might divorce you, too, if I were her.”

Bill glared at Margaret.  “I did my best to remind her of our history without pushing her.  And it was still enough to push her away.”

Margaret lightly shoved Bill’s shoulder, earning another glare.  “You idiot!  She needed you to fight for her.  To woo her.  To make her see how much she needs you.”

“But–”

“I’m not talking about you accidentally falling asleep with her and then apologizing for it.  That happened.  Did it make her mad?  Yes.  Then you went into damage control mode and quit trying to chase her.  What happened to dating her?  Fights happen when you’re dating, too.  You handle them and move on if you love each other.”

Even with a beer in his system, Bill could tell Margaret made some sense.  He _had_ panicked and tried to do damage control.  He _had_ quit trying to get closer to her.  “And if you’re right?  How does that change anything?”

Margaret rolled her eyes.  “It means you start fighting for her, whatever that takes.”

Whatever that takes.  What _would_ it take?

Jimmy’s the one that told him, before they went on patrol Saturday morning.

“You can call her and try to reason with her, but I suspect you’d do better if you flew out there.  Tomorrow, maybe.  Work with her parents and surprise her.  Get her to talk to you that way.”

“But what if she doesn’t?”

“Then you know you tried,” Jimmy said.  “I know it’ll mean busting your budget, but buy the plane tickets - one round trip for you, one coming back for her.  Be confident that she’ll come with you.  Show her how much she’s loved and what she’s missing.”

“You’re right,” Bill said, sitting up a little straighter.  “I can’t just let her go without a fight.  I need to be there in person.  She needs to know I’m serious.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jimmy said enthusiastically.

Bill texted Nancy and got her blessing, then dipped into savings to book plane tickets.  This trip was worth more than the money.

He was going to get his wife back.

 

Stupidly, she’d left most of her stuff in Kansas.  It was a boring Sunday afternoon and Sarah was really missing her favorite books now.  Would she have to go back to Jericho to get her things or would Bill pack them up and ship them to her?  Would it be rude to ask him to do that?

Nancy poked her head in the guestroom.  “Your dad and I are headed out for some errands.  We should be back before dinner.”

Sarah nodded and waved goodbye, figuring she now had about three hours of free time.  Maybe she’d nap and then continue checking out past entries on her Facebook.  So far, she’d looked at a year’s worth of posts and none of them brought back memories.  She hadn’t given up yet, though, even if her parents thought she had.  She’d made an appointment with a therapist for next week, hadn’t she?

About twenty minutes after her parents left, the doorbell rang, waking Sarah from her nap.  She sat up slowly, trying to figure out who it could be.  The doorbell rang a second time; whoever it was wasn’t going away.  Deciding it might be one of the neighbors bringing over misplaced mail, she hurried downstairs.  Sarah opened the door and froze.

There, on the doorstep, stood Bill and a small suitcase.  Not the slumped Bill she’d seen so much of, nor the straight-as-an-arrow Bill who’d talked to the Sheriff, but a Bill who looked determined.

“Sarah,” he said, taking a step forward.

“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked.  “You’re supposed to be in Kansas.”

“No, I’m supposed to be wherever you are.”  He took another step forward and was less than a foot from Sarah.

She held her ground.  “I told you I’m figuring things out.  I’ll come back if I remember–”

“I want you back whether you remember or not,” Bill interrupted.  “And I’m going to try something now.  I hope it makes you remember.”

Bill reached out and grabbed Sarah’s arm with one hand, drawing her to him.  With his other hand, he pulled her head forward, being careful not to touch the shaved areas.

He kissed her.  Deeply, passionately.  Not a “just dating” kiss, but a “this might be my last chance” kiss.

Sarah didn’t fight it until images started flashing through her brain.

A first kiss, Bill in a suit.  Kisses under the stars, Sarah with a new ring.  The wedding and kisses in Stanley’s car after.  Apologies after a fight.  A last morning together before the surgery, more than just kisses.  And in all of them, more love than she could stand to feel.

She stumbled backwards, grabbing the stair rail for support.  Her head swam with the new memories and she couldn’t speak.

Bill stepped in the foyer, looking worried.  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.  “I wasn’t trying to hurt–”

Sarah held up her hand, stopping him.  She looked back up and saw Bill.  _Her_ Bill, not the stranger she barely knew.

He crept closer to her, obviously unsure of what happened.  “Sarah…?”

She almost leapt forward, grabbing his shirt and pulling her to him.  The kiss this time was just as forceful and even more desperate.  She had weeks to make up for, after all.

There were tears on her face when she finally pulled back.  “I remember,” she said breathlessly.  “I remember how much I love you.  How much I need to be with you.”

She almost laughed at the look on Bill’s face.  Disbelief and relief both showed in his expression.  “You do?”

Sarah let go of his shirt and held his face.  “I do.  I don’t remember everything, but I remember enough to know I never should have left you.”

“Jesus, it worked.”  Bill gently wiped her tears away, though he had his own forming.  “This was my last-ditch effort to get you back.  I don’t think I really believed it’d work.”

“I’m so sorry, Bill,” Sarah said.  “I’ve been such a jerk to you.  Can you forgive me?”

“Forgive _you_?  Of course I forgive you!  I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel comfortable enough to stay in Jericho.”

“I’m ready to come home,” she said, meaning it with all her heart.  “Did you drive out here?  When can we leave?”

Bill grinned, almost rakishly and Sarah suspected he was drunk with joy.  “Well, I have two plane tickets to Hays for tomorrow, if you can wait that long.  You might want to wait to tell your parents goodbye, anyway.”

“How’d you know they’re gone?”  The answer hit Sarah as soon as she asked the question.  “They were in on this.  They knew you were coming.”

“I texted your mom when I was in the taxi on the way here.”  Bill’s grin turned sheepish.  “I hope you don’t mind us conspiring.”

“The forgetful me might have minded, but now that I remember _us_ , I definitely don’t!  What were you going to do if this hadn’t worked?”

“Sleep on the couch here if you’d let me.  Get a hotel if you wouldn’t.”  Bill shrugged.  “I figured I’d be getting the hotel, to tell the truth.”

Sarah reached up and ran a hand through his hair.  “You’re definitely staying here, and not on the couch.  It’s been too long since I spent time with my husband.”

Bill’s eyes lit up as if he remembered something.  He patted his slacks before digging in the left front pocket.  He pulled out Sarah’s rings and went to one knee.  “Sarah, will you wear these again?  Be my wife again?  Be part of my life again?”

Sarah went to her knees, too, and kissed Bill again.  “Yes, babe, I will.”  She let Bill put the rings back on her finger.  Her hand felt right again.  They both stood and Sarah wrapped her arms around Bill, resting her head against his chest.  Yeah, _everything_ felt right again.

 

While Sarah repacked her things, Bill sent out texts:  to Sarah’s parents, to his parents, to Stanley and Bonnie.  _she’s coming home_ , he said simply.

To Jimmy, he said, _tell margaret she was right.  you were too._

His phone buzzed with return texts, but he didn’t check them.  Watching Sarah – _his_ Sarah – work was much more important right now.  “Can I help you with anything?” he asked, leaning in the doorway of the guestroom.

She shook her head, smiling softly at him.  “I’ve got this.”

Just as Sarah was zipping up her suitcase, the Morgans returned.  Nancy swooped in with hugs for them both.  “Did he talk you into it?  Did you remember?  Oh, we need to all go to dinner and you can tell us about it!”

Nancy was as good as her word; the four of them went out to eat and Bill recounted his conversations with Margaret and Jimmy and the decision to fly out to talk to Sarah in person.  And well, do more than talk – the kiss had been his idea, not anyone else’s.

They poked at Sarah’s memory and found she remembered about half the things that happened, most of them having to do with Bill.  She couldn’t remember work, but they thought maybe she’d remember it if she started doing it.  And if not, she was always a quick study.

They dutifully visited Sarah’s grandmothers after dinner and watched the late news curled up together on the Morgans’ couch.  Sarah yawned at the end of the weather segment and Ken pronounced it bedtime for everyone.

Sarah took Bill’s hand and led him up to the guestroom.  For the first time in two weeks, Bill properly shared a bed with his wife.  Bill didn’t go beyond holding her tight and breathing in the scent of her hair, but he didn’t need to.  Just having her back in his arms filled a hole deep inside him.

In the morning, they almost didn’t wake in time to make their flight – both slept too soundly wrapped up in each other.  It took Nancy knocking on the door to rouse them in time for a quick breakfast and drive to the airport.

They landed in Hays ten hours later, tired and ready to get home.  Their hands were still clasped together, though, Bill driving with just one hand.  Normally he’d have something to say about that, but not today.

Sarah stared out the window as they passed the “Welcome to Jericho” sign an hour and a half later.  “I know where I am this time,” she said, beaming.

Bill couldn’t help but smile, too.

He pulled into their garage and Sarah grabbed him almost as soon as they were inside, peppering his face and jawline with kisses.  “We’ve been apart too long, one way or another.  I want you to take me to bed.”

Well, Bill wasn’t going to argue with that request.  He abandoned the suitcases in the hallway and led her to the bedroom.  Carefully, he undressed her and laid her back on the bed.

Later, they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, entirely sated and extremely tired from travel.  Sarah snuggled up close, head on his chest, and closed her eyes for a nap.

Bill stroked her hair, studying how her head had healed over the past weeks.  Hard to believe that just over two weeks ago, they found out about the tumor.  So much had happened since then, it seemed like at least a month.  In another couple of weeks, they’d go back to find out if there was a recurrence, if Sarah would need further treatment.

Whatever the doctor said, they’d get through it.  They’d made it through Sarah’s amnesia, after all, and that was about as difficult as Bill could imagine.

Thank God he had _his_ Sarah again.  Together, they’d tackle anything.


End file.
